In Self Defense (13 page)

“It might,” Dusty conceded.  “To be honest, we don’t know, but we’re going to find out.  If he doesn’t bite tonight, it’ll be back to the drawing board.”

***

Clare wore the panic device around her neck day and night, reaching up to finger it every once in a while.  Not that she was expecting anyone to come jumping out of the bushes and try to grab her in broad daylight, but it made her feel better just to know it was there.

She was aware that Dusty and Erin had placed listening devices all around her house, and that helped, too.  And although there was a slip-up on Tuesday, she had now confirmed that all the doors and all the windows were locked.

At eleven o’clock, Doreen came into the library.  Clare was curled up on a leather sofa, reading a manuscript Nina had brought her.  “I really don’t want to leave you alone here, you know,” the housekeeper said.

“It’s all right,” Clare assured her.  “It’s your day off, and you deserve to have it, if only to get away from this madhouse.  You’ve been stressing over this as much as the rest of us.  Besides, if he thinks we’ve changed our routine, he might change his, and then everything the police have done will be for nothing.  Nina’s going to come around four.  Meanwhile, everything’s locked up tighter than a drum, and as soon as Nina gets here, I’ll turn on the alarm system.  And if that’s not enough,” she added, reaching under the throw that covered her and drawing out the Beretta, “I also have this.”

Along with the panic device, the semiautomatic now went wherever she did.

But once Doreen was gone, Clare grew restless, and the house, as big and as empty as it was, began to close in on her.  So she gathered up the manuscript, put on a light jacket, dropping the gun into one pocket and her cell phone into the other, and walked out the French doors, across the terrace, and down the broad expanse of lawn to the sturdy wooden dock that jutted out into Lake Washington.  The Durants didn’t own a boat, although Richard frequently talked about getting one.  So they simply used the dock as a place to sit and sun and watch their friends and neighbors in their boats out on the water.

Clare settled herself on the wooden bench that ran along one side.  There was a bit of a chill in the air, which meant that, although somewhat late, perhaps, autumn was finally on the way.  She sighed, always reluctant to see the warm weather go, and pulled out her cell phone.  First, she called her office and asked Anne-Marie to make a copy of the manuscript she had been reading and pass it along to Glenn Thornburgh.  Then she made a number of calls in rapid succession, dutifully returning messages from friends and acquaintances she had been unable to get to sooner. At one-thirty, she went back into the house, made herself a cup of tea, and plucked a banana out of the fruit bowl that sat on the counter, carrying both back outside.

She had just finished both when Richard called, having first rung through to the house and gotten no answer.  They spoke for a couple of minutes, after which she dialed one more number, spoke for a moment, and then she called her sister-in-law’s home in Ravenna and chatted with each of the children.

“Are you having fun?” she asked Peter, who came on the line first.

“It’s cool here,” the ten-year-old replied.  “Aunt Elaine made peanut butter cookies.”  Peanut butter cookies, Clare well knew, were the boy’s favorite.

“It’s okay,” Julie conceded, when it was her turn to talk to her mother.  “But I’d rather be back home with you.  You know you can’t take care of yourself.”

“I know, but I promise to try,” her mother said, a gentle smile in her voice.

“You’d better.”

At five minutes to four, Clare went back up to the house.  As if on cue, a taxi pulled up and dropped Nina at the front door just as Clare was coming in the back.  Nina was a city girl, born and bred.  She had no use for a car.  Not when cabs could get her everywhere she needed to go.

“When I told Thorny why I was leaving early, he told me I could have taken the whole day off,” she reported.  “I guess you rate pretty high with him.”

As soon as they had deposited Nina’s overnight bag in the blue guest bedroom, which was several doors down the long hallway from Clare and Richard’s room, the two women went back downstairs and turned on the alarm.

“There’s a red light on a little keypad right outside the front door that should now be on,” Clare called out, carefully reading the instructions that were posted in the closet near the door where the alarm mechanism was installed.

“It’s on,” Nina announced, peering through one of the tall narrow windows that flanked the door.

“Good, then I think we’re safe,” Clare declared, coming out of the closet.  “Or as safe as electronic things can make us.  Now all we have to do is remember not to open a door or a window anywhere in the house, unless we disarm the whole thing first -- or all hell with break loose!”

“You know, I can’t think of a single reason in the world why we should need to go out this evening,” Nina declared.

Clare chuckled. “You’re a good sport,” she said.

Nina couldn’t help but see the device around Clare’s neck, but she didn’t want to ask what it is.

“It’s a panic device,” Clare said, following her friend’s gaze.  “Apparently, all I have to do is push the button, and the police will come running.”

“My God,” Nina murmured.  “This is for real, isn’t it?  I mean it’s all actually happening.”

“I’m afraid so,” Clare replied.

“Silly question then, I’m sure, but since, if it were me, I know I’d be ready for a padded cell and the men in white jackets by now, what are you doing to keep your mind off it all?”

“As a matter of fact,” Clare said, as she led the way into the library, “I’ve been reading a very interesting manuscript recommended by one of my authors.  I’ve had Anne-Marie send a copy of it over to Thorny, and I was going to ask you to read it, too.  I think this may turn out to be something.”

They spent the next couple of hours reading, Nina starting from the beginning, and Clare from where she had stopped, handing off pages as she finished them.

At six-thirty, Nina looked up.  “I wouldn’t have believed it,” she marveled.  “There’s a man out there who wants to do some pretty gruesome things to you, and here we are, reading this manuscript, as though we don’t have a care in the world.”

“Despite what my doctor may think, I’ve discovered that work really is the best medicine,” Clare told her friend and colleague.  “I find that the minute I can get involved in someone else’s world, I can forget all about the one I’m living in.”

Doreen had left dinner for them.  They took plates of lasagna from the oven and bowls of salad from the refrigerator, and a good bottle of Bordeaux from the wine cellar into the family room, and ate all the food and then finished off all the wine while they sat in front of the television set and watched two old Russell Crowe movies, back to back.  Before they knew it, the grandfather clock in the foyer was chiming eleven times, and they were yawning.

Right on schedule, a taxi pulled up to the front door, honked the horn a couple of times, and then waited.  While Clare disarmed the alarm, Nina walked out, clearly visible in the front light, opened and closed the taxi door.  Then, as Clare turned off the light, her friend quickly ducked back inside the house.  As instructed, the taxi drove off.  The charade, thought up by Erin, was just in case the stalker was watching.  The police wanted him to think that Nina was on her way home, and that Clare was now alone.

“I promise not to sleep a wink,” Nina said when they saw the taxi’s taillights disappear.

“Don’t be silly,” Clare chided, resetting the alarm, but maybe it was the wine speaking.  “I’m going to sleep like a baby, and I suggest you do the same.  The house is locked up tighter than a drum, the alarm is on, the police are waiting, Richard will be home tomorrow, and then everything will be all right.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, except for the soft light that was always left on in the upstairs hallway at night, the big house was dark and quiet.

The police, parked patiently in neighboring driveways, had been ready and waiting since dark.  Erin had on a set of headphones, and Dusty climbed in and out of the unmarked car they were driving, parked out of sight on the Bennett property to the north of the Durant home.  Both of them were listening -- listening for anything that sounded even slightly out of place.

“Wendy seemed positive he’ll make his move before the husband comes home,” Dusty murmured.  “She doesn’t think he’ll change his plan because of us.”

“I don’t, either,” Erin said.  “Which means, if we’re both right, he could be showing up just about any time now.”  She pressed the talk button on the collar microphone she wore, and spoke softly into it.  “Dock, any activity over there?”

“Negative,” was the muted reply from the two patrolmen who were waiting in the bushes on the lakeside of the Durant property.  “All quiet here.”

“Corcoran?” Erin whispered.

“Negative,” came the reply from one of three vehicles parked in the neighbor’s driveway to the south of the Durant residence.  “All quiet here, too.”

It was dark.  The sky was overcast.  No moon and no stars were illuminating the night.  There was not even a streetlight to help them see their hands in front of their faces.  Inside the car, Erin opened a thermos and poured two cups of coffee.

“It’s going to be tonight,” she said, handing one cup to Dusty.  “I just feel it.”

“Vehicle approaching,” someone from the Corcoran side said suddenly, speaking into his microphone, and everyone was immediately on alert.

A moment or so later, however, it passed by.  “Out of range,” Dusty said into his microphone.  “Stay alert, though,” he advised everyone.  “It may come back on us.”

They waited a full five minutes, but the car did not return.

“Vehicle approaching,” Corcoran said again, ten minutes later, and they all held their breaths.  But again, it passed on by and did not return.

“Why is this road all of a sudden so damn busy on a Thursday night?” Dusty asked irritably.

“Calm down,” Erin said, taking a sip of the thick black stuff that Jean Grissom guaranteed would keep them awake and alert all night long.  “Two cars in ten minutes isn’t all that busy.”

Dusty let out a breath.  “I know,” he said.  “I’m just a little edgy.”

Erin smiled, because of course she understood.  “Drink your coffee,” she told him.

***

Between eleven-fifteen and eleven-forty, a total of four vehicles passed by them, one from the Bennett side and three from the Corcoran side, and kept on going.  Then it was a full half hour before another vehicle came along, from the Bennett side.

“Heads up,” Dusty said into his microphone.  “We’ve got another one.”

“Okay,” Corcoran said.

Then there was silence for almost two minutes.

“We have no vehicle,” Corcoran reported.  “I repeat, we have no vehicle.”

“This is it -- let’s move!” Dusty cried.  “Dock, be alert.”  He jumped back into the car, started up the engine, and pulled out of the driveway into the road and then turned into the Durant’s driveway.  The two backup vehicles fell in behind him, until the drive was completely blocked.  Six officers jumped out of their cars, readying their weapons.  On the other side of the Durant property, Corcoran was doing the same.

Erin had the headphones glued to her ears.  “He’s at the house,” she reported.  And a moment later, with a sudden frown, “Didn’t Clare say the alarm system would be on?”

“Yes,” Dusty replied.

“Well then, he’s managed to get past it somehow, because I just heard a door close, which means he’s gotten inside.  Let’s go!”

Motioning two of the armed officers to fall in behind them, Erin and Dusty hurried toward the Durant house, with four of the armed officers from Corcoran following suit.

“Where’s the vehicle?” someone from Corcoran whispered when they were almost to the top of the circular drive.  “We have no vehicle in sight.  Do you have a visual, Bennett?”

“Negative,” Erin replied.  “There’s no vehicle visible.”

“What the hell is going on?” Dusty muttered, peering into the darkness.  “Where’s his car?”

“Never mind his car,” Erin cried, already on the run.  “It’s
him
we want!”

***

In the master bedroom, contrary to what she had told Nina she would be doing, Clare was not sleeping like a baby.  Instead, she was lying in bed, wide-awake, at a quarter past midnight, when she thought she heard the sound of a door opening and closing.  She strained her ears and held her breath, listening for more, for something that would tell her she was not imagining it -- that there was indeed someone other than Nina inside her home in the middle of the night.

And then she heard it, the soft creak on the stairs and the muffled sound of footsteps on carpet that told her someone was indeed coming.  She pushed herself up against the bed’s upholstered headboard, her heart thumping wildly, and stared at the closed bedroom door, willing it not to open, willing it all to go away, even as she slipped her hand beneath her pillow and closed her fingers around cold metal.

But it was not to be.  And a moment later, the door was thrust open, and a silhouette loomed large against the softly lighted hallway.  Clare didn’t wait for introductions.  Stifling a sob, she held the Beretta in both hands and, pointing it in the general direction of the intruder, as Richard had showed her how to do, she released the hammer and pulled her finger back against the trigger, not letting up until a hollow click-click sound told her the clip was empty.